


I'll Carry Your Smile

by larrymylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Football Player Louis, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Supportive Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymylove/pseuds/larrymylove
Summary: When Louis' previous football match doesn't go as well as he'd hoped, Harry has just the plan to put the smile back on his face for the next one!





	I'll Carry Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Just cute fluffiness for your Saturday evening!

Louis would be lying if he said he slept at all the night before. He knew he needed his rest for the big match, but his body felt like a live wire and despite going to bed early, and the glass of warm milk with cinnamon and honey Harry had made him drink beforehand, he found himself lying awake staring up at the ceiling for a majority of the night. Each minute had dragged by, feeling like an hour. Finally, the sun had started to creep through the blinds and Louis shifted to prop himself up on an elbow as he gently brushed the soft wisps of brown curls back from his love’s forehead. Harry always could sleep like a log, it was something Louis had always been jealous of. He could sleep anywhere too, and it wasn’t uncommon for Louis to find him tucked up in the most uncomfortable looking places, fast asleep. He was a peaceful sleeper too, never snored or kicked or hogged the blankets - unlike Louis. There had even been times at the start of them sharing a bed where Louis would hover his hand over Harry’s mouth and nose just to see if he could feel air, just to see if he was still breathing. Honestly, the kid slept like he was in a coma, Louis just had to be sure he was still breathing over there.

As he brushed the curls back off his forehead, letting his fingertips drag across the baby-soft skin, a soft smile teased at Harry’s lips. Louis felt a little guilty for waking him, but he’d been good and not woken him up hours earlier as he had laid awake miserably counting the textured zig-zags on the ceiling.

“Baby, you awake?” Louis asked gently.

Harry made a soft humming sound and attempted to roll over, to face away from Louis and back towards the window which just wouldn’t do.

“Oh no you don’t,” Louis grabbed Harry around the middle and pulled him close, back to chest, to hold him tight as he wrapped his legs around Harry’s own gangly ones, “The sun’s up, Hazza. You aren’t going back to sleep!”

“ ‘s early,” Harry pouted, voice syrupy with sleep.

“So?”

“Have you gotten any sleep, Lou?” Harry asked, patting Louis’ hands where the rested on his stomach with his own.

“I got some.”

“Liar,” he could hear the soft smile in Harry’s voice, “Are you worried about the match?”

Louis shrugged, “Just wish you could be there ‘s all.”

“Me too, Lou. And you know I would be if I could,” Harry gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I know baby,” Louis pressed a soft kiss to the back of his head. He did know it. If Harry could be there, he would be in the stands with a massive sign and screaming the loudest and once the game was over, win or lose, he’d rush to greet Louis on the side of the pitch to jump into his arms and cover him in kisses before they’d even made it to the lockers. Louis knew because even when they were younger, and Harry would come to watch him have kick abouts with the lads from school, he’d cheer and hold up the dorkiest construction paper signs, racing to greet him after the match to pepper him in kisses even in front of everyone. The lads didn’t mind….much. Louis wished professional football would be half as understanding. 

The only bigotry on the school pitch was from one lad named Danny who had called Harry - sweet, darling Harry with his construction paper signs and overly-excited smiles, who Louis hadn’t even begun to date yet at the time - a slur. Calvin had kicked the ball right at his crotch and told him never to come try to play with them again. Harry had said he wasn’t too bothered, tried to play the part of always smiling, always agreeable. But Louis had seen the way his eyes had clouded over with tears he wasn’t letting fall. And Calvin had ruffled his curls and had told him not to listen to the wanker. They’d called the match off early that day for Louis to walk Harry home, hand in hand.

_Maybe the football league just needs a Calvin to kick a ball at their crotches and tell them to fuck off_ , Louis mused, pressing another kiss to Harry’s curls.

“One day I’ll be there,” Harry said determinedly, “Once things get better.”

“My own personal cheerleader,” Louis grinned, thumbing over the bare strip of Harry’s belly exposed from his t-shirt riding up slightly, making him giggle as he added, “Now’s all we gotta do is find you a skirt.”

“A short little pink thing. Oooh, or better yet, those booty shorts! They could say TOMLINSON across the arse!”

Now _that_ was an idea and a half. Louis pinched him on the bum, making him squeal, “Don’t give me thoughts of you in booty shorts with my name on your bum when I have to be out of this bed to head out in a few minutes.”

Harry let out a sigh and flipped over to face Louis, “Hi.”

Louis rolled his eyes, knowing he would never, ever get used to Harry’s overwhelming sweetness. Years had passed, and things had gone both right and wrong, and yet somehow Harry had stayed as sweet and as gentle and as lovely as he was when Louis had first met him back when he had been just sixteen - so doe-eyed and enthusiastic and clumsy. 

“Hi yourself,” Louis replied, reaching out to tuck a curl behind Harry’s ear.

“You’re worried about the match,” Harry said. It wasn’t a question.

“Nah,” Louis lied, “Just a bit sleepy this morning. The match will be fine.”

“You’re worried about the match because you’re worried you’ll miss the goal again.”

Louis stilled. It would never cease to amaze him just how observant Harry was. He hadn’t even mentioned the skipped goal, Harry had just seen it when he’d been watching the game. It was a shot Louis had made a hundred times in their practice pitch out back, but for some reason, he’d been off that day and had missed. The ball had hit the edge of the goal and had bounced off and Louis had felt utterly defeated. It didn’t help matters that even though his teammates had told him not to worry, that it happened to the best of them, he still felt the weight of his mistake like a lead weight in his belly. It also didn’t help matters that Coach had given him a verbal thrashing in front of everyone in the locker room after the match. They’d lost and Coach was looking for anyone to chew out, to pin it on. Louis had been in the perfect line of fire.

When he’d gotten home, he didn’t mention it to Harry. Harry had watched the game, like he watched all of Louis’ games. But he didn’t say anything, and Louis had been grateful. Instead, Louis had headed to shower, telling Harry to set up a movie for them to watch when he got out. Harry had set up the movie and had quietly joined Louis in the shower without a word, taking the shampoo bottle from him and squeezing some into his own hand to massage tenderly into Louis’ scalp. It was usually the other way around, most of the time. It was Louis who spoiled and dotted on Harry, bathing him and washing his hair. But taking turns came naturally to them, and when Louis needed it, Harry was more than happy to be the one to baby him. And it had been Harry’s turn this time, to wash him, pressing soft kisses and little love bites along his collar bones and shoulders before dropping to his knees on the hard tile.

It’d been Harry’s quiet mission in that shower to make Louis forget - forget the missed shot, forget the lost match, forget Coach’s verbal abuses, forget his own name. Harry was quite good at making Louis forget his own name.

And after the shower, Harry had gone to dry him off and Louis had stopped him, instead grabbing for one of the fluffy towels and bundling Harry up in it like a lanky, overgrown burrito, kissing him sweetly on the nose and saying a whispered, “thank you.” They’d dried off together, making faces at one another in the mirror before putting on comfy clothes and heading to the living room to watch Winter Soldier. They never mentioned the missed goal. 

Up until now.

“It’s….it’s not about that,” Louis shifted uneasily.

“Lou,” Harry leveled him with a Look™. Harry’s Looks™ could rival even Louis’ mother's, and that was saying something. Louis squirmed again.

“It’s not.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, he studied Louis’ face thoughtfully for a moment before reaching up and running a knuckle along Louis’ cheekbone, making him shiver, “It’s not about that. But it’s okay if it is, Lou. And it’s okay if it’s not. You’re brilliant out there, brilliant everywhere all the time really. You’re going to do so good today! You know I’ll be watching and cheering for you and I have absolute faith in you. And if it doesn’t quite go right, that’s okay too. You’re still brilliant and good and amazingly talented. You’re going to go out there today and blow their socks off!”

Louis giggled in spite of the wetness to his eyes and swelling in his heart, “Jesus.”

“It’s true! Their socks will be blown right off, out of their cleats!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Louis rolled his eyes, shaking his head, a smile already spreading across his face.

"You love me."

“Sometimes,” Louis teased, just because he could, “And every day that ends in y.”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes as he raised a hand to smack him. Louis caught his wrist easily, gripping it tightly in his hands as he leveled Harry with a look. Harry’s looks could rival Louis’ own mother’s, but Louis had Looks™ of his own to, looks that made Harry absolute putty in his hands, “I want you to think _really_ carefully about that next move, Styles.”

Harry’s mouth twisted as he pretended to think it over, or maybe he really was thinking it over, before lowering his hand.

“You wouldn’t have time to do anything anyway,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but when I get home tonight I’ll have all evening.”

Harry grinned wickedly, “Sounds fun.”

Louis shook his head, “You’re a menace, Styles. An absolute _menace_.”

“C’mon,” Harry gave Louis’ nose a quick peck, “You get up and get dressed, I’ll get up and fix you something to eat before you fly out the door.”

Louis nodded and drug himself out of bed. His body already ached from lack of sleep, and he hadn’t even stepped foot on the pitch yet. This wasn’t a good sign. He dragged himself into the ensuite and started up the hot water; maybe a hot shower would help wake his body up and get the achiness out of his muscles. Outside the ensuite, Louis could hear Harry getting dressed, singing along to some tune in his head. 

After showering, Louis pulled on his sweats to drive over to the stadium. Practice and warm-ups would be starting soon, and he didn’t have much time for a good breakfast. Luckily, Harry was already two steps ahead of him, and had egg on toast already on a plate with a glass of orange juice on the counter.

“Thanks babe,” Louis kissed his cheek before sitting down to eat, “Looks delicious!”

“Ooh, before you go,” Harry dropped to his knees in front of Louis’ chair and Louis stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Haz, you know I have to leave soon….”

“Shh, not that. That later. That when you get home. Right now though….” Harry reached onto the table and grabbed a Sharpie that was there before rutting up Louis’ cotton shorts.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Shh….you’ll see you.”

Harry uncapped the marker and began to draw on Louis’ upper thigh, well beyond the hem of the cotton shorts, or his kit. Louis’ thigh jumped and Harry gripped his shin in his hand.

“Hold still. You’ll mess it up.”

“Tickles.”

Harry simply rolled his eyes before going back to concentrating on his drawing. His brows were furrowed and his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth and Louis was certain he’d never seen a more adorable sight in his entire life.

“Since I can’t be there for the game,” Harry explained, finishing off his scribble, “I just wanted you have a smile that will always be with you today, even if I can’t be. Look!” Harry tapped Louis’ thigh, drawing his attention to the crooked smiley face that was inked upon his skin.

“Hazza….” Louis didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t often he was moved to a loss of words, but this was definitely one of those rare times.

Harry put the cap back on the marker and gave the smiley a little kiss before gently pulling Louis’ shorts down to cover it up.

“Now you’ll have a smile with you throughout the game. And you’re going to do amazing, you know.”

Louis kissed him one, or seven times, before finishing off his juice and kissing him once again before heading out the door to the stadium. Throughout the drive, Louis brushed his thumb over the smiley; and as he was dressing in the locker room, he brushed his thumb over the smiley; and as he lined up to take a shot, he brushed his thumb over the smiley.

He didn’t miss a shot the entire game, and they ended up winning; not by a landslide, but still winning. Coach didn’t chew him out, instead he clapped him on the shoulder as Louis headed out of the locker room that evening. 

Maybe it was because of Harry’s smiley, maybe it was because of the hours of practice he’d put in that week.

Regardless, once he got home, it was his turn to make Harry forget his name.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please come say "hi!" on tumblr, and please like/reblog the [fic post.](http://wellingtontat.tumblr.com/post/168377597953/ill-carry-your-smile-summary-when-louis) Thank you so much! :)


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